Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1887-05-08

| DtiOW W. - VI .. -
ments the clouds were tinged with the
most exquisite colors, which soonf faded
end became cold and cheerless. After
walking rs rapidly IS possible for hall
eli Lour ! was delighted to find myself
Gt Tie end of the forest, and almost at
the extreme limit Of vegetation. In
front rose
THE CONE OF PoPocATEPErL,
more beautiful than ever in the dim
twilight. 4 broad field Of lava lay on
tie other hand, but not sign OF the
nnche. The path became so poor that
with the dim light it became almost im-
possible to keep from going astray
Only one thing remained 20 be done
ard that was to camp out and wait TILL
morning. The prospects ahead were
anything but pleasant. To sleep IN
The open air at an elevation OF thirteen
or fourteen thousand feet above the
sea, without even fire, was enough to
make almost any one shudder. There
WIS plenty Of wood TO burn, but the
smallest light would attract the brigan1s
to the spot, and then my trip would
come TO sudden ending. The pine trees
were small. and the branches reached
almost TO the ground, so 1t was an easy
matter to gather sufficient quantity OF
the brush TO construct a place in which
TO sleep. Some of the smaller branches,
with the aid of lunches of loose noun
tain grass. served very well as mat
tress and pillow. All being arranged
for the night. ] took one last look at
the dark. gloomy scene and then
crawled inside of my hastily-bnilt
house. II seemed quite warm at first,
hut shortly after the wind began to blow
through the sides, making it very un-
comfortable. To add to my misery,
the visions of those fearful crosses on
tie roadside were constantly before my
eyes. and sleep was out of the question:
Whenever twig or q branch cracked
| fancied it was footstep and expected
the next moment to have a brigand
standing over me, ready to plunge his
knife. Occasionally the howl of
covcte sounded close Mt hand, and on
several occasions Icyen fancied | heard
the cry Of a mountain lion. The hours
seemed to be stretched into days, and
vet from the position of the stars
! could see it was not yet mid
night TIE cold winds penetrated
through every crack and crevice of my
roorly-ccnstructed hut, and made 1t
almost Unbearable. On several occa-
| sions It seemed to be impossible to re-
main longer without freezing. A fire,
however, was ont of the question, for it
meant probable visit from the brigands
ard one more cross for the roadside.
| Al things come to an end, and the long
night finally passed away. My one
thought was to get away from the fear
| full place, and without taking even a
look at tie glorious peak | started on
run down the mountain. Soon / came
TO p stream on the side OF which | had
wall ed the previous day. The water,
however, was frozen solid, SHOWING
that the night must have been intensely
cold. After reaching a lower altitude
logan to feel warm and in good spirit
again. and then for the first time felt
heartily ashamed of having abandoned
the trip. About noon | reached Anne
camcca. and after n good dinner and ;
few glasses Of pulque | vowed that J
would reach the summit OF Popoca.epet.
and that without guides or mules, if II
took whole year to do It,
The resolution having been duly
made. laid in extra supplies of under
clothing. blankets, and provisions, and
then made arrangements to start early
the next morning. During the evening
the agent and his French interpreter
called to learn the result Of the trip and
10 triumph over my failure. They de-
clared that the Americans were great
ueoplc for railroads, but they were far
inferior to the Mexicans when it came to
CLIMBING PoPoCATEPETL.
The next DAY shortly after sunrise
| was no and ready TO start. The path
was, of course, the same over which !
had gone the previous day, but some
how | managed to wander off on a
branch road. and only discovered my
mistake when the path came to sud
den end. 4 Mexican would consider
few oaths very appropriate on such
an occasion, but, being good Ameri'
can. ] merely turned around and re-
traced ny steps. The mistake was
certainly serious one, as it took near
w two hours Of fast walking to reach
the right path. After trudging
and climbing over twelve miles OF
road aud seeing no signs OF
tie ranch, ! determined to leave the
main path, cut across the spur of the
mountain, and make the ascent from the
west side. instead Of taking the long
and tedious path usually followed.
About 3 o'clock came to the line where
vegetation ended, and decided to pass
tie. night at that place. For hours
had been walking through forests OF
pines, but had at last reached the limit
beyond which neither plant nor tree
dared to go. The mighty peak, covered
with the dazzling coat of snow from
TIE summit to point three or fom
thousand feet below, lay close at haad
while the distant fields, valleys, and
hills stretched in all directions. The
edge Of the forest seemed to be
partially sheltered from the winds
and would thus make the bes
camping place to be found. Havine
plenty Of time | Was not hurried as OF
The previous day, and was able to con
struct n substantial hut in which t.
pass the night. The pine trees wer,
dry. so that it was an easy matter t
trcak off great branches. Thus bl
dark the work was finished, and afte
ruiting on all my extra clothing an.
having hearty lunch | crawled insid,
and prepared to pass the night. /
was little cold-the Thermometer be
ing considerably below the freezins
point-and yet managed to sleep vel
and wake up bright and early the mex
morning, prepared to finish the under
taking.
| left the camp and struck across
sloping ridge composed entirely Of fin
volcanic dust and ashes. Walking wa
extremely difficult, as the loose ashe
had a disagreeable way Of flying in al
directions, and although tue distance
mas less than q thousand feet, nearl'
Two hours were consumed in crossinl
tie strip. A steep, rocky ravine thel
| followed, and led to the foot of tn,
elacier A large stream Of water, com
ing from the end of the field OF ice
dashed over precipices in its MAJ
course, and was finally lost in the dis
lance. The ascent to the snow-line wa